


Journal

by tsuristyle



Category: SMAP
Genre: Gen, avast ye mateys there be breakup feels here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 16:36:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9132466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsuristyle/pseuds/tsuristyle
Summary: Paper rattles in a sudden gust of wind, and he turns; his journal has fallen open, pages whipping violently, memos fluttering loose.(Nakai, his journal, Kimura.)





	

Nakai stands on the rooftop of Fuji TV, looking out across the bay. He came up here to write in his journal, to plan what there is left to plan, but instead he finds himself standing at the railing, journal abandoned on the bench behind him.

What will it mean, when everything is gone?

The wind whips cold off the bay, and Nakai hunches in on himself. He's been writing in his journals for years, making plans in tiny, cramped handwriting ever since he was sixteen and the president himself taught him how to write an MC. He'd been desperate to leave a mark, to take this group he'd been given and make it something people would _remember_. Groups didn't last forever, back then.

He's spent his whole life making that mark. He'd thought it would be forever. But now, now he's afraid--

Paper rattles in a sudden gust of wind, and he turns; his journal has fallen open, pages whipping violently, memos fluttering loose. He imagines, irrationally, that the words themselves are flying off the pages, every last one spiraling up into the air and disappearing into the sky, leaving nothing but a blank, empty journal--

A hand reaches down, picking up the journal. It's Kimura.

He closes it carefully, running his fingertips down the cover in some unspoken emotion. Then he holds it out.

"There're still pages left," he says quietly.

Nakai takes it. His words are still there. Things don't just disappear like that.

"Thanks," he says, holding the journal to his chest. Kimura steps forward, next to him, and they look out across the bay together.

There are still pages to fill, a mark to finish making. Nakai closes his eyes, and in the quiet trust of his bandmate, thinks of what to write next.


End file.
